Life Is Good 'Cause Everything's Awesome
by patientalien
Summary: The first inkling Anakin Skywalker has that not all is right in his head is when he wakes up some two or three weeks after Ahsoka's departure feeling somewhat disappointed to still be alive. It just sort of goes downhill from there. Update with Obi-Wan's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Written for a hurt-comfort bingo amnesty challenge on LiveJournal for the prompts "isolation", "abandonment issues", "suicide attempt", and "hospital stay". Title is from "Everything is Awesome" from The Lego Movie. I actually wrote this entire fic as a tumblr draft whilst in the bathtub.

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><p>The first inkling Anakin Skywalker has that not all is right in his head is when he wakes up some two or three weeks after Ahsoka's departure feeling somewhat disappointed to still be alive. The second clue he has is when he finds himself actively wishing that a stray aneurism would cross through his brain while he's brushing his teeth. The third, and possibly most disturbing thing that makes him think something might be seriously wrong with him is when, while sitting in the hanger bay, overhauling the inertial dampeners on his fighter, he catches himself tracing the blue veins in his flesh arm with the business end of a utility knife. Not close enough to touch the skin, not yet, but his brain had said 'just dip in there, buddy,' and Anakin had dropped the knife with a start.<p>

'Well that just doesn't seem normal,' is what he tells himself as he gathers his wits again. Because yeah, sure, he's been sad since Ahsoka has left. He'd even classify it as a mild depression, in total fairness. But he still has a job to do; the war doesn't end just because he's having a little bit of a hard time adjusting to his apprentice's sudden, painful departure. He's managed to stay perfectly functional, to the point Obi-Wan had even pointed out how well he's handling the whole affair. Obi-Wan's praise, so sought-after, makes him feel good, so it's with a great deal of surprise that he is suddenly, actively, wishing for death.

He's not sure who to bring it up to. The Jedi are out of the question, even Obi-Wan, because they would probably take it to mean some manifestation of the Dark Side in him and that's kind of the last thing he feels like putting up with. He doesn't want to worry Padmé; she has enough going on as it is without him going to her and asking 'Hey sweetie, have you ever just really wanted to take waaaay more than the intended dosage of cough medicine just on the off chance you might choke on your own puke?' Also he's a little worried he knows what her answer would be as well. Still, going to her is kind of a last-resort-type option. There's Palpatine, but he doesn't want the Chancellor to pull him from the front lines. So he stays silent. Because there is nobody else in his life who might even remotely care.

He's used to not having friends. Ever since he was a Padawan, in his earliest days at the Temple, it was clear he was destined not only to bring balance to the Force, but also to be a habitual loner. He'd had some friends for a while, but one of them died and the other two blamed him - one since left the Order and the other pointedly ignores his greetings in the Temple halls. He'd had Obi-Wan, and Palpatine, and then Padmé and Ahsoka and that had been enough. It's still enough, if he weren't feeling so ridiculously, nonsensically miserable.

He can't even really put his finger on WHY. Things that normally wouldn't phase him in the least make him upset and anxious; everything he touches is assessed on how good of a weapon it would be against himself. Each moment is spent hoping that there won't be a next moment.

He bottles it up, like he's been taught. Okay, he's technically been taught to release his emotions into the Force but it really boils down to the same thing. Don't think bad thoughts. Don't feel sad, or worried, or anxious, or suicidally unhappy. The more you pretend, the better you'll feel. Except the more Anakon pretends, the more isolated he feels. Because no one knows, and that's no one's fault but his, so if it wouldn't be too much trouble to get hit by a speeder bus, that would be phenomenal. Then it wouldn't be anybody's fault (well, except the speeder bus driver, but that's kind of unfair to put that guy in the untenable circumstance of being the one to run over the Hero With No Fear so Anakin doesn't walk into traffic today).

Padmé notices something is wrong and tries to get him to talk. "I just want you to feel better," she implores, but he doesn't tell her the whole thing because he doesn't want to scare her. Instead he drinks a metric ton of her booze because at least if he's not actively feeling anything he's not passively trying to die. It isn't until he wakes up the next afternoon with the worst hangover he's ever had that he realizes the irony of giving himself alcohol poisoning in order to keep from giving himself any other kind of poisoning.

This goes on for weeks. This push and pull of misery and pretending to be fine, just fine. His men stop trusting him to make command decisions because they all involve him charging out by himself. If he dies in battle, that's the Separatists' fault. No guilt, no blame. But for some reason the men of the 501st don't see it the same way so they keep interfering.

He's fucking around with his utility knife again one day. Nothing better to do, he supposes, and this time the voice that says 'just dip in there, buddy' is a little louder and more persistent than previous days. So he does, dips into the flesh of his left wrist, slides the blade up the inside of his arm to the elbow. The pain is instant, and far more intense than he'd expected and it's only his Jedi training that keeps him from crying out.

The cut is deep, the blood dark red, deoxygenated so he sliced the vein, not the artery. He tries to see into his arm, to find that vessel, like he can with the hydraulics and wires in his mechno. But it's different when the wound keeps bleeding and obscuring the view, and when his vision is starting to go a little cloudy. Pain pain pain and warm blood is seeping through his tunic, spilling onto the floor. Sleep sounds like a good idea so he curls up, wrapping himself around his wound. Protecting himself from prying eyes. This time he's the one doing the leaving.

—-

"Wake up. Oh, Ani, please wake up."

"We're right here, Anakin."

"C'mon Skyguy, you can get through this."

—

His arm hurts and his first thought upon waking is that Dooku took the other one while he wasn't looking. But it turns out it's not gone, just heavily bandaged, and the voices he's been hearing for the past however many days and nights haven't just been dreams.

It takes an agonizingly long time to remember what happened and when he finally does, he tells everyone - Padmé, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka - to go away and leave him alone. He deserves to be alone. After the pain he'd seen on their faces, it's better for everyone if they just don't have to see it anymore.

The Jedi aren't equipped to deal with a case like this, not at the Temple anyway. He's sent elsewhere, a temporary Force suppressor injected under his skin, told to get well. Because nobody wants a broken Jedi. The doctors give him pills, tell him to talk about his feelings. He takes the pills and lies about his feelings.

Days stretch into a week. He's left alone for the most part, only a handful of other patients recognizing him. That suits him just fine. The fewer people who know him are the fewer people who can be hurt by him.

The week stretches into more days and then two weeks have gone by and he takes the pills every day and every night and is starting to be a little more honest about how he feels. He doesn't tell every secret, but admits to some, and as two weeks stretch into three and then four, the days where he wants to wake up dead grow fewer in number until one day he realizes that it is this, the fifth week, that he wakes up glad to see the sun shining outside his window every single morning.

He stays another week. Takes the pills and is honest about his feelings. He's scared, and angry, and lonely. He's thrilled and happy and in love. He is all of these things and more and the trick is keeping them all in balance. But he is the Chosen One, and balance is his destiny so he's pretty sure he'll be okay.

And he is, for the most part. Crisis averted, everything's fine, situation normal. He goes back to his life and sometimes still feels miserable and depressed and anxious, but he never tells himself to 'just dip in there' again, and he doesn't wish the universe would swallow him up anymore.

—-

It all falls away the moment Padmé tells him she is pregnant and he knows it's only a matter of time. He holds her and tells her it's the happiest moment of his life, but inside, and especially after the first of the nightmares, all he can hear is… 'Just dip in there, buddy. This is the end.'


	2. Everything's Cool

Written at the behest of **butterflyaura. **Thank you so much for your kind words! Believe it or not, I wrote this part in the bathtub too.

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><p>Anakin has been handling Ahsoka's departure well. Better than Obi-Wan had expected, quite honestly. Of course, he's sure the distraction of being back on the front lines so soon has something to do with that. Anakin is always better when he's got something to focus his energy on. Still, there's something not quite right about said energy. Something off, but Obi-Wan knows he'll come around eventually and in the meantime makes sure to tell Anakin how proud he is of him for not giving in to the anger and grief he's sure the younger man is feeling.<p>

Anakin has always been different, from the moment he'd come to the Temple, he'd been set apart. Because of his circumstances, his age, the prophecy. Normal Jedi platitudes had never worked but Obi-Wan is privately relieved that he doesn't have to worry in this instance. Anakin is holding up just fine and if his presence in the Force seems muted, well, that's understandable.

Time passes, and Anakin's muted presence is becoming even moreso. He skips meals, looks exhausted at all turns. Obi-Wan begins to worry that perhaps he isn't holding up as well as he'd thought, but he doesn't know how to broach the topic without sounding like he's lecturing about letting go of attachments. After Anakin's help and understanding after Satine's passing - death - murder - he can't in good conscience scold Anakin for this. For loving, for grieving what he has lost.

Padmé mentions she's tried to talk to him, but got the brush off. Obi-Wan wants to be surprised by that (Padmé is one of very few people Anakin trusts implicitly - the others being the Chancellor and, Obi-Wan likes to think, himself - though that trust has been shaky in recent months), but finds he isn't. Anakin, as emotionally expressive as he is, can be shockingly bad at admitting when something is truly wrong.

Captain Rex says his young General is spending a great deal of time either in his own quarters or in the docking bay. Also not entirely unusual for the mechanically-minded Jedi. Still, the way Rex says it makes Obi-Wan fret a bit, particularly when the Clone Captain tells Obi-Wan about some of Anakin's recent battle plans.

"He says he'll take his fighter and hit from within the Sep ranks. Alone." Is one of the reports. "Wants to do recon around the base. Alone." Is another. Always alone, and always in the midst of imminent danger. Obi-Wan frets, meditates, but does not dare seek council from his peers, fellow Masters, all of whom seem to be watching and waiting for Anakin to snap.

It's hardly fair, Obi-Wan thinks. Anakin is reckless and impulsive, acting seemingly without conscious thought at times. But he is not, he thinks - he hopes - in danger of snapping. There is no seed of the Dark Side in him; if anything, Anakin is a blinding beacon of the Light. And where there is Light, such radiant light, there is bound to be some shadow. Obi-Wan has long come to accept that about his friend, and would never presume that just because Anakin is quiet, now - when has that boy ever been quiet? - it means something intrinsically wrong with him.

Obi-Wan had always wanted to see the best in him, after all. And does, still. Always will. It doesn't mean he can't worry, though, privately.

They're granted respite on Coruscant, and Obi-Wan had expected to leave for parts unknown - well, not entirely unknown, Obi-Wan isn't blind. Still, he's surprised when Anakin says he's going to spend time overhauling his fighter squadrons instead. Of course, that is easily explainable as well. Anakin's moving meditation brings him peace in a way Obi-Wan has never truly understood but had come to accept.

Hours pass and Anakin still hadn't returned. Obi-Wan knows how easily the younger man loses track of time, especially when he's working on the ships, so he makes his way to the hanger bay to see if he wants to stop and get something to eat. He doesn't see Anakin right away, but does see Artoo Detoo, hurtling towards him so fast the little astromech nearly tips itself over, squealing some kind of warning. "What is it?" Obi-Wan asks, though he could never hope to understand the beeps and trills the way Anakin can.

Artoo twirls its dome in distress and races off again in the direction it had come. Obi-Wan begins to feel a deep sickness within the Force as he follows, nearly bringing him to his knees as he gets closer to Anakin's fighter.

At first he thinks the red puddle on the ground under the fighter is leaked hydraulic fluid, but then the bitter copper smell hits him and he covers his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his robe. No, not hydraulic fluid, something much more vital. The pain within the Force grows stronger and something inside him is fading. It takes only a brief moment to realize it's the sense he usually has of Anakin, normally so strong and vibrant. There's a gray haze over it all, and now Obi-Wan runs. A bloody handprint mars the otherwise pristine yellow paint job of Anakin's fighter and there… Under the starboard wing… A figure huddled in on himself, the puddle growing ever larger around him.

"Anakin?" His voice his hoarse and he has to try again. "Anakin!" Because it is Anakin, lying there in a widening pool of his own blood, a stained utility knife just within reach of his huddled frame. Obi-Wan drops to his knees and rolls his friend over. Lips and eyelids blue. Face gray, devoid of blood. And his arm, his flesh arm, oh ANAKIN. Torn from wrist to elbow, a gaping wound, a violent gash.

Obi-Wan's immediate thought is that Anakin had been attacked, caught off-guard. But he knows the truth as surely as he knows his own name and his heart nearly stops beating. "Anakin, no!"

Anakin is heavy, taller and broader, and Obi-Wan staggers under the weight, but adrenaline and the Force give him the strength and speed he needs to get to the Halls of Healing in record time.

All he can do is sit, and wait, and contemplate the blood stains on his tunic and pants while the Healers work to save his brother's life.

—-

He comms Padmé first. She sounds devastated, but ultimately unsurprised. Promises to come immediately and Obi-Wan thinks she must have broken every traffic law on Coruscant to get to the Temple as quickly as she does. They don't speak, no words are sufficient for the pain they share.

Ahsoka's arrival is a surprise. He didn't contact her, wouldn't have even known how to get in touch with her had the thought crossed his mind. No words there, either. A strong training bond is not easily severed; she must have felt something to bring her back here. She hugs him tight and he can't help but hug her back in silence.

It feels like decades before they're allowed to see him. Vokara Che is, understandably, wary of allowing two civilians (for all intents and purposes) in as well, but when she sees the regal set of Padmé's jaw and the protective, nearly feral posture of Ahsoka, she acquiesces.

Anakin sleeps for days and none of them leave his side for more than a couple of hours at a time. They barely speak to one another; the silence is deafening. Padmé works on her datapad, Senatorial duties still needing attending to even in her physical absence. Ahsoka spends her time brushing Anakin's hair back and holding his hand, whispering stories of past adventures to him. Obi-Wan tries to meditate. Fails. Tries again.

"We're here, Anakin," he murmurs aloud and through the Force.

On the third day, Anakin opens his eyes. Looks at them in confusion, and then in realization. "Get out," he rasps.

When it's clear he is serious, they do, walking as a unit to the Temple's massive entrance hall. "I will keep you both updated, of course," Obi-Wan says softly. Ahsoka slides his comm from his belt and programs in her new frequency. She and Padmé leave, the Senator glancing over her shoulder as they descend the wide staircase into the world beyond the Temple. Obi-Wan returns to the Halls of Healing and waits.

—-

He's against the idea of the suppressor, but understands the need. Anakin is unwell, and with his powers it would be dangerous to let him out of the Jedi's oversight without one. He knows it is only temporary but that doesn't stop the terrible sense of wrongness when he suddenly can no longer feel the warm presence of his friend.

He knows it's for the best. The Temple, despite having the highest quality care in the known galaxy, is woefully I equipped for a case like Anakin's. So though it hurts to let him go, Obi-Wan does.

—-

He had his own missions to complete in the weeks Anakin is away. There are infrequent updates - General Skywalker is resisting treatment. General Skywalker is becoming more compliant. General Skywalker is making good progress. By the time Anakin comes home, the difference is clear. He's thinking clearly, acting rationally. The barest hint of a scar on the underside of his left forearm one of the only reminders of how low he'd been.

They're the Team again, fighting side by side and back to back. Anakin still has his moments - and days - ups and downs that seem more pronounced than they once had, but for the most part it's clear he is healing. Is, at the very least, mostly well.

It isn't until after Dooku is dead and he sees the haunted, exhausted look in Anakin's eyes as he apologizes to Obi-Wan for not being appreciative of his training that Obi-Wan realizes how tenuous that grasp on wellness must be. Still, he has a mission to complete, a monster to slay, and Anakin had his own duties.

"Goodbye, old friend," Obi-Wan says, not realizing it will be for the last time, "May the Force be with you."


End file.
